


Trial Run

by sabinelagrande



Category: Inception (2010), Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Blatant Misuse of Forgery, Crossover, Dream Sex, F/M, Forgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:38:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old forgers' tradition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trial Run

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/gifts).



"It's a great test, Ariadne," he says, like she's the one who's being unreasonable. "An old forgers' tradition."

"I don't remember you ever wanting to before," she tells him.

"Were you really hot for Peter Browning?" he asks, and she makes a face. "I thought not. Come on."

"He's not my type."

"Expand your horizons."

Ariadne frowns. "You're not doing the hips right."

He looks at her in confusion. "What?"

"I watched the tapes. The hips are wrong."

"How so?"

"You're swinging them too much," she says. "He does it some, but you're exaggerating it."

He tries it again, walking across the room a few times. "Better?"

"Yeah."

"Y'know," he says, in that slightly nasal voice, "you're not gonna distract me this way."

"I know."

"Try it with me," he cajoles. "It'll be fun."

"You'll have to convince me."

He smiles smugly. "Convincing we can do."

She holds up a hand. "Do one thing."

"Anything for you," he says.

"Drop the voice," she says. "It's weirding me out."

"Can do, my love," Eames says smoothly, dropping into his normal accent, speech patterns the laconic Sheppard would never use. "Americans are so difficult anyway."

"Our specialty," she tells him, as he climbs onto the bed and claims her mouth.

There's something to it, the thick shock of black hair to run her hands through. Eames always keeps his slicked down, and while he's in no way averse to sex hair, coming away with pomade on her fingers made it a little less than appealing. Sheppard's hair is completely different though, a little coarse, sticking up in all directions even before she messes it up.

He cups her breast, rubbing her nipple with his thumb, and she arches towards him. "Told you you'd like it," he says, kissing her neck. He pulls her leg up, shifting them so that it's wrapped around his waist, and suddenly he's naked. This is the guesswork part of it; they don't have any footage of Sheppard that's not fully clothed. Eames has given him a little chest hair and an appealing happy trail, toned muscles, strong thighs. 

He looks good enough to eat.

"It's no fun with these," he says, picking at her clothing critically. It still feels a little weird to change clothes, even when she can move mountains, but then they're gone, disappeared off to nowhere, completely inappropriate when the alternative is Sheppard's bare skin against hers, touching her everywhere. Eames kisses her again, his hand dipping down to stroke her, and she runs her fingernails lightly down his back, tracing his spine.

He's not so much pleasing her as torturing her; he's proving very emphatically that going along with his plans is always the best idea. It feels like a lifetime before he finally pushes inside of her, filling her up, and she rocks her hips, trying to get more. He doesn't make her wait, thrusting into her nice and steady. She brings her other leg up, hooking them both around his waist; she'd rather give up the leverage if it means he can open her up that much more, push in that much deeper.

He's taking his sweet time about it, going slow, making sure they both savor it, when a thought occurs to her. "You reprogrammed the timer while I wasn't looking, didn't you."

"I might have done," he says slyly. "You didn't give me nearly enough time, darling. Did you really want me to have to rush?"

She sighs. "You're a bastard."

He smiles widely, the expression strange on Sheppard's face. "That, my pet, is one of the many reasons you love me," he tells her, kissing her neck.

"Shut up and fuck me," she says, though she's smiling.

"Of course," he says, moving faster. "There's nothing else I'd rather do more."

It's disorienting, having Sheppard above her, inside of her, even though she knows it's Eames; it's sex with a stranger that she knows, and she doesn't know quite how to reconcile that. "Oh, _John_ ," she moans, a little more theatrically than is necessary.

He stops. "Excuse me?"

She grins at him. "Thought you were trying to test your skills. What are you going to do when someone calls out Sheppard's name?"

He narrows his eyes at her. "I think you might be as tricky as I am."

She strains up to kiss him. "I'm working on it."

"I thought you didn't want to talk," he says, pushing in deeper, harder, hitting her just right. _This_ is like him, the way that he moves, the sounds that he makes. She doesn't say anything, just lets out a satisfied groan, pulling him closer, her heels in his back to spur him on.

She's loud when she comes, scratching at his back. She's not even sure which name she calls, but it doesn't matter, as long as Eames keeps moving through it, giving her every last second he has to give. She's got it together just enough to watch him as he gives it up, pushing into her hard and clutching her.

He's got a habit of not getting off of her when he's done, collapsing and staying there. She usually has to push at him, but Sheppard's smaller, taller but lighter, and she isn't feeling quite so crushed. He kisses the side of her face, nuzzling her neck. "How'd I do?" he asks, in Sheppard's voice.

"Eyes changed color," she tells him.

"Goddammit," he sighs. He leans up, looking at her. "Guess I'll just have to try again."

She runs her fingers through his hair. "How long did you set the timer for?"


End file.
